


Unloveable

by bluerosebouquet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x03 coda, Angst, Heavy Angst, John Winchester is a bad parent, M/M, Mention of Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosebouquet/pseuds/bluerosebouquet
Summary: Dean reflects on his broken heart. 15x03 Coda.





	Unloveable

Dean had known a lot of different kinds of heartbreak. He’d lost his mother, his father, his friends, his brother, his first love, his youth, his innocence, but he never thought, really, that he’d lose Cas.

This wasn’t the heartbreak he had felt when Cassie had dumped him. That was a sharp pain, like someone was stabbing him with a thousand tiny needles. It wasn’t the heartbreak when he had left Lisa and Ben. That was a ripping sensation, like his heart was being torn in half, two pieces fluttering to the floor. As Cas’ footsteps faded, it was more all-consuming. An all over ache that he couldn’t shake, like someone had taken his heart and squeezed a little too hard.

This was his fault though, right? He had finally pushed Cas away, pushed him so far away that he couldn’t come back. _Unloveable_. That’s what John has always spit at him when he had made a mistake. Whether that was on a hunt or by not making Sam breakfast, that was John’s go to word for Dean. And Dean believed him. Everyone he had ever loved had either died or left him, pretty clear evidence that he really was unloveable.

He had operated under the assumption that what John said was true most of his life. He never stayed long, had no relationships that really lasted, and he was okay with that. Better leave before they got attached and realized what he was and beat him to it. He hid who he was in one-night stands, leaving before the sun rose every time, because if anyone saw who he was, who he really was, they’d run as fast as they could.

And then he had gone to Hell. And Allistair’s torture wasn’t just physical, though physical would have been more than enough. With each cut, snap of bone, drop of blood, it was punctuated with things that Dean had never told anyone, but Allistair could see right through him. 

“Unloveable”, he would sneer, sticking a knife into Dean’s heaving chest, “Your daddy really hated you Dean. And why not? What have you ever done? You break everything you touch. You’re unloveable.”

Allistair had taught him how to break others with precision, and he spent ten years hating himself while the destroyed others on the Rack.

And then, when he was 30, Castiel had entered the scene; with cracking lightning and bright blue eyes, he had stood too close to Dean, essentially not moving for eleven years. They had been through everything together. Allistair, the Apocalypse, Sam losing his soul, Cas’ betrayal, the Leviathin, Cas’ death, Purgatory, Naomi, Cas’ death....again, Metatron, Amara, Lucifer possessing Cas, the Mark of Cain, losing Cas again, raising Jack, losing Mary, losing Jack.....the list goes on.

Dean felt the pressure in his chest tighten, like he had been running a race, he felt out of breath, tears sprang to his eyes of their own accord, falling down his face as the echo of the bunker door rang in his ears. He thought of the awful words that he had hurled at Cas, playing on the things he knew would hurt the worst. Like he wanted Cas to leave. But he didn’t really, he had never actually wanted Cas to leave.He had never thought that Cas would actually walk out the door.

And now he had proved John’s point correct. He had proved himself unloveable, even to Cas.

He stayed where he was, gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white and his fingers going numb from lack of circulation. He wanted that numbness to spread all over his body, calm his aching beating heart. He was still so angry. Angry at Cas, at Chuck, at Belphegor, at Rowena, at Sam, at Mary, at John, at the whole goddamn world for making him the one that had to save everyone, that Chuck had dictated every single second of his life and made him fall so in love with a stupid angel with his black hair and his blue eyes and his broken wings.

It was Chuck’s fault that he had torn himself apart from the inside out because of how he felt about Cas. How guilty he had felt about wishing he could bridge the gap between them and take and touch and possess and that was all Chuck’s fault. He didn’t want to be like this, he didn’t want to be in love with Cas, he didn’t want to be in love with any man, and it was for Chuck’s amusement, all of it. John had beaten the shit out of him for Chuck’s amusement, he had cried in a gas station bathroom when he was seventeen years old after having to leave the first boy he’d ever kissed in Spokane, Washington, and the shame that rose in his throat? All Chuck.

Dean wished, not for the first time, but certainly the most desperately, that he couldn’t feel at all. That his soul would be dragged out of him, thrown in a box and tossed to the bottom of the ocean, because this pain made him feel like he was being turned inside out, pushed and stretched and ripped and torn and there was nothing left of his already shattered heart to give to anyone else. Not that anyone else would ever want him. He could drown himself in one night stands, get lost in neon lights and drunken touches that slurred like the words in their mouths. But that wouldn’t fix the shredded thing in his chest, only numb its presence, and he didn’t know if that would make it worse or better. 

Unloveable. The word echoed in his head.

How long did he stand there? Minutes? Hours? Long enough for Sam to come upstairs and ask the words Dean knew were coming:

“Where’s Cas?”

Dean let go of the table. His fingers ached, circulation long gone.

“Moved on.”

Sam looked at him, not comprehending.

“Moved on? From what?”

“Me. Us.”

Sam was breathing hard, tears in his eyes again, but he stepped back when Dean took a step towards him.

“He’s gone? What did you say to him?”

“It’s his fault Rowena’s gone. His fault you had to-“

“You’re an idiot, Dean.”

“I-“

“I don’t even want to hear it,” Sam said, turning his back on Dean, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Cas? Hey man, can you,” Sam’s voice shook and Dean hated himself very much for what he had done, “Can you just come back? Can we talk about this? I know you couldn’t have gotten far and I’ll come look for you. Please Cas, just come back.”

Sam turned back to Dean, looking smaller than ever even though he was a foot taller than Dean, had been since he was sixteen.

“Why would you do that? Send him away?”

Dean longed to tell Sam that he couldn’t be around Cas when what he felt for Cas was fabricated. He wanted to tell Sam that he was broken beyond repair, that whatever was left of his heart couldn’t be salvaged, it lay in pieces on the floor, that this hurt him more than almost anything else, because he knew that he had fucked up, that this was wrong, but what was the alternative? Longing glances when the thought Cas couldn’t see? Touching himself at night and thinking of broad shoulders and dark hair and stormy blue eyes? Longing forever for something that Chuck would never allow him to have, that, even if he was in control, he didn’t think he would let himself have? It was better to be alone. He didn’t need attachments, when he and Sam had started this whole thing, when he was 26....so young, that was who he had been. He could go back to that. He could be alone. Because what the hell was the alternative?

“It was his choice,” was all he could say, and the words sounded hollow even to him. Sam shook his head.

“This isn’t his fault, mom, Jack, Rowena. That’s not him.”

Dean looked at the ground, he couldn’t say anything.

“And you know it,” Dean met Sam’s eyes. He could never hide anything from him. Not really.

“I-” he was scrambling to find an answer, not that he really had one, “All we need is family-“

“Cas is family, Dean, when are you gonna get that through your thick skull? I’m gonna go look for Cas.”

Dean didn’t even try to stop him. He heard the tires of the Impala pull out of the garage and he tried really really hard not to collapse to the floor.

Sam came back hours later, empty handed. He wouldn’t even look at Dean, but went straight to his room, closing the door behind him.

Dean’s own room was like the planet of Tralfamadore to him. He didn’t recognize anything in there anymore. He collapsed on his bed, drunk on his thoughts and the half a bottle of whiskey he had drank and he thought of Cas. Cas’ smile, his laugh, the way he touched Dean when he healed him. The way his face lit up when Dean started to sing in the car. His questions when they watched one of Dean’s favorite movies together. His hands. His hair. His eyes.

Dean was numb off the whiskey, but the shards of his heart still ached, knowing they would never be whole, because what was he but unloveable?

**Author's Note:**

> A 15x03 Coda which definitely stems from my Personal Issues that are going on, but what can I do but write? This is very very very VERY angsty and there’s no way around it lmao.


End file.
